Debra & Regan Webb & Black - Would-Be Christmas Wedding

She sipped her coffee and saved the scream of frustration for when she was alone again.

“Mom, you can’t.”

“Can’t?”

Casey’s eyes flared as she obviously caught the warning Cecelia had packed into that one word.

“I didn’t mean can’t like that.”

Cecelia sipped her coffee, waiting. More than a little curious how her daughter intended to wrench her foot out of her mouth.

“It’s just...” She shrugged. “You’re my mom.”

Cecelia traced the handle of her bright stoneware cup.

“Fieldwork is crazy,” she added.

Holding her daughter’s gaze, she waited for an intelligent argument to arise. Not that she’d let anything deter her from her plans. Since her husband’s passing, she’d merely gone through the motions of day-to-day life and now she was ready for something new. She needed something new... Like a life where she felt needed and...wanted.

She’d survived the shock and grief of losing the man she’d loved and expected to grow old with. She’d learned to cope with a quiet house and the sympathetic looks of her friends and neighbors.

Her work had been an anchor, steadying her as she moved from one stage to the next. Now it felt like a stone dragging her to the bottom of the Potomac when she thought of sitting behind a desk for the rest of her working days.

With William buried and their daughter a happy newlywed, Cecelia’s life, unexpectedly, was her own, and she was determined to see just what she could do with it.

“Mom? You’re not even listening.”

“No,” Cecelia admitted. “I’m not. Whether you approve or not, I’m making this move.”

“Mom.”

“Casey.” She mimicked her daughter’s exasperated tone. “I appreciate your concern, but I didn’t leap into this blindly. This decision isn’t a whim or even a midlife crisis.” She saw Casey blush and knew her daughter had indeed suggested those unflattering theories. She and her uncle, Cecelia’s brother, had discussed this move at length. “The agency wouldn’t have accepted my request if I didn’t have the physical or mental fortitude to succeed.”

She held up a finger. “If you dare mention the Equal Opportunity Act, I’ll throttle you. Don’t think I haven’t learned a thing or two about minimizing risk already. I am not as naive or helpless as you seem to think.”

Casey held up her hands in surrender. “You’re a self-defense ninja.”

“Don’t you forget it, either.” Cecelia smiled. “I know enough about the process to know my two closest relatives did not recommend me.”

“That’s not true.”

Cecelia let the fib go unchallenged. Her family wanted the best for her, but they just had a different idea of what that looked like. “And don’t worry. You’ve been through the training yourself. It’s not like they’re dumping me out on the street first thing Monday morning.”

Casey sighed. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to take some vacation and travel? Field operations isn’t a game, Mom.”

Her daughter’s complete lack of confidence cut deep, but she supposed it was to be expected. When you walked one path for the duration of a relationship, changing directions was bound to stir things up.

Maybe there had been enough talk of change for the moment. “How is Levi?”

“He’s fine. His plane gets in around eight.”

“And being married is wonderful?”

“Yeah,” Casey admitted with a secret little smile. One Cecelia remembered wearing long ago when she was that age. “You’re sure you’re okay with us spending Christmas with Levi’s mom in Florida?”

“Of course. You’re now part of his family, too. Don’t worry about me. I have plans of my own.”

“You do?”

“Sure. I bought a ticket for—”

The doorbell rang and Casey shot her a curious look. Cecelia only smiled as she set her coffee aside. “I have friends. We even do stuff,” she added with a wink. “It’s probably about tomorrow night.”

Before she reached the front door, it opened and her brother, Thomas Casey, walked inside. The tension was a palpable force rolling off him and bouncing around the narrow foyer.

Worst-case scenarios bounded through her head before she regained control. She’d learned early in her role as a wife and mother that a cool head was the best asset she could bring to any situation.

“What is it?” She said a quick prayer that it wasn’t his new wife, but her mind absolutely blanked when he laid his hands gently on her shoulders.

The doctor who’d explained William’s terminal diagnosis had done that, wearing a similar grim expression and looking at her with an emotion caught somewhere between sympathy and pity.

She shrugged out from under her brother’s touch and shook off the uncomfortable memory. Whatever had brought Thomas rushing into her home, she instinctively understood she wasn’t going to enjoy the news.

“Casey’s here,” she said, stepping out of his reach. “Come on back to the kitchen and have some coffee.”

“We need to talk.”

She swallowed the bitter words dancing on the tip of her tongue. Why did her family have so little faith in her abilities? “Not if you’re here about my move to ops next month.”

“That got approved?”

She rolled her eyes. No amount of good manners could have stopped the exasperated reflex. Temper wasn’t something she frequently indulged in, but right now she was ready to do the one thing she’d never done in her life: kick her family out of her home.

Casey brightened considerably when she spotted her uncle. After a warm hug, they stood side by side and faced Cecelia.

“Go ahead and say whatever you need to say.” Let them try to deter her. Teaming up against her would get them nowhere. She was making the move to ops, regardless. She’d already made arrangements for a house sitter while she was training.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Casey?” Thomas nudged her to the stool at the counter beside Cecelia. “You may as well know the truth of what we’re up against.”

“I beg your pardon?” Cecelia stared at her brother as a fresh wave of concern rolled over her. “What truth?”

“You have to go into protective custody. Today. Right now, Lia.”

A chill raised the hairs at the back of her neck. Her brother didn’t shorten her name unless he was seriously distressed.

“I’ll go pack a bag for you, Mom.” Casey hopped off the counter stool, but Cecelia stayed her with a look.

“Why do I need protective custody?”

Thomas slumped forward, leaning his forearms on the counter and lowering his voice. “The analysts picked up some chatter about you.”

“Me?”

“You’re in danger. A pawn in a bigger game,” Thomas growled. “It’s my fault.” He pushed back from the counter and paced away, then swiveled back. “One of my enemies plans to kidnap you. At least that’s the rumor making the rounds.”

“Oh, that’s going too far, Thomas. We both know none of your enemies could possibly know about me.” Her brother was the director of Mission Recovery, a covert team so dark, not even the president was routinely briefed on their operations. When Thomas or his Specialists were in the field, their cover stories were solid, with no links to their real lives. The only way an enemy could know about his connection to her... Oh, dear God.

“He has a mole inside my team. The kidnapper is likely to be one of my own Specialists.”

That was all Casey needed to hear. She slipped by Cecelia and rushed up the stairs.

“That’s impossible. It doesn’t make sense. Your team is devoted to you and their work. You handpicked each one of them.”

Thomas grimaced and scrubbed a hand across his short hair. “Well, I clearly made a mistake somewhere.”